with pure air. This was done by contracting the chest on every side to its smallest possible dimensions, and at the same time throwing out the air violently and from the bottom of the thorax, as if under the operation of an emetic; then alternating by opening the chest to its greatest capacity, and drawing in, by successive inhalations, all the fresh air possible, and pressing it down to the lowest depths of the lungs. This process at first gave such intensity and sharpness to the pain in the head, that it required much resolution to continue it; nevertheless it was persevered in. After a few minutes, the pain diminished, and soon entirely ceased. This was followed by free perspiration, and equalized, warmth and circulation. Perfect repose and quiet sleep ensued. Friends, who a short time before had seen a countenance like that of a dying person, and knew how slow was ordinary cure, were astonished, an hour afterwards, to behold, on my awaking, the full glow of restored health.[6]

On the re-appearance of cholera, during the summer of 1849, my mind was peculiarly affected, from the belief that a false theory of circulation prevailed, although there was a true theory, which, if generally believed, might lead to the knowledge of the cause and cure of this terrific malady; and thus thousands of lives be saved which would otherwise be lost. This thought almost distracted me; and believing that my sex stood in the way of my theory’s being acknowledged, I sometimes wished that it might please God to take me out of the world. Then coming to better thoughts; I cast away despondency as unworthy of me; and determined to proceed to the further investigation and development of the great truth, of which I had, as I believed, been made the unworthy recipient. I studied my theory anew, while I read the most approved works on cholera; and I came to the belief that imperfect respiration, caused by the want of due oxygen in the air, was the principal predisposing cause of the premonitory symptoms; while the death that supervened was often caused by the settling of carbonic acid gas, the residuum of animal combustion, in the lower air-cells of the lungs. The symptoms of the cholera, as treated by the best writers, were full of new proofs of the truth of my theory, especially of its last step, the formation of steam or vapor in the lungs. Without that, the collapse of cholera was a fearful mystery; with it, everything was plain. With a coldness that would collapse the lungs, the bowels must naturally be drawn up (and with dreadful pains) to supply their place. The ghastly change in the face must occur when cold has condensed its arterial vapor. If respiration could restore heat, before any lesions had taken place in the organism, the patient might recover. Then I began rewriting my theory in a work afterwards published, with the title, “Respiration and its Effects, especially in relation to Asiatic Cholera and other Sinking Diseases.”

While thus occupied, the debilitating air of the season weighed upon my health and spirits. I had been affected for about three days with what I regarded as the ordinary complaints of the season, when one night, after my family had retired, I found myself suddenly very ill—my symptoms being coldness, debility, and spasmodic pains. I believed myself to be attacked with cholera. I efficiently practised the artificial respiration in fresh air as before described. Gaining strength as I proceeded, I soon found a death-like coldness giving place to genial warmth. Violent exercise, with artificial breathing, was kept up some time, with such rests and full free breathings as nature required; after which, I slept, perspired profusely, and was well in the morning.

This was an occurrence which sunk deep into my mind; and the more so, as I could not speak much of it, for the truth was too improbable to be believed. But the successful issue of this, my first experiment upon the dreaded disease, prepared me to act with boldness and efficiency in a case which occurred in my own house about a week after.

On the 14th of August, 1849, Jane Phayre, an Irish woman in my service, of about twenty-five years of age, having been ill for four days with diarrhœa, was suddenly struck with what the French call cholera foudroyant—from fright. Alarmed by unwonted sounds near her window in a basement room, she mounted the window-seat to look out at the top sash, and found her face close to that of a man dying of cholera, who in his death-cramps was brought from a steamboat on a litter, and thus rested upon the pavement. The cover was lifted from his face, and the sight and the smell struck her with faintness and trembling; and with difficulty she reached her bed. I was called to go to her quickly by Eliza Fagan, who said that Jane was very bad. She had a clay-cold death-look, and a frightful blackness around her eyes. Her face, as I saw it, was livid, pinched in features, and corpse-like, and her pulse but a feeble flutter; and she seemed only to breathe from the top of her lungs. She tried, as she afterwards told me, to say, “I am dying,” but her speech was husky and inarticulate. She says her sight and hearing were gone; and while Eliza and I were dragging her out of doors, she could not see the window, and did not feel her feet. We placed her in an upright position, with her back resting against a board-wall, a fresh breeze blowing full in her face. Her senses were now partially restored. I told her to breathe violently, for she must get the bad air out of her lungs and the good air in; and I showed her how she must do it. At first she said, “I can’t, for something rises up in the inside.” When I told her, sternly, that her life depended on it, and she must, she tried to obey me. At first, it gave her severe headache, but as soon as deep breathing was fairly begun, while I was watching her face with intense anxiety, the color changed from the clay-cold death-look to the full flush of the warm hue of life, and she joyfully exclaimed, “Oh! I feel well!”

When the removal of carbonic acid gas had made way for oxygen to be brought to the yet uninjured lungs, the carbon of the venous blood ignited, the motive power was furnished, the blood was again moved forward into the arterial system, and the dammed up venous current, receiving the suction force, rushed on so violently as at times nearly to produce suffocation; but the struggle was soon over, and the lungs, free both from carbonic acid gas and an unnatural quantity of venous blood, once more received pure air—and to the relieved sufferer respiration became delightful—the circulation passed freely through an unbroken system—and THE CHOLERA WAS CURED.

Was there, in the whole wide world, another person besides myself who would have taken such a living corpse, dragged it out of doors, and set it upright, on feet which could not feel, with the expectation that it might breathe out death, breathe in life, and be restored? The result is a proof, a posteriori; that the theory on which the experiment was made is true.

Other cases occurred, where, under different circumstances, cures of cholera were effected. One, as instantaneous, and in some respects as remarkable as that of Jane Phayre, was that of my friend and former pupil, Mrs. Gen. Gould, of Rochester, who sent for me, believing herself to be dying of cholera. I have her letter, which, by permission, is published in my work on Respiration; and also a letter from her physician, Dr. Bloss, of Troy, testifying that her disease was cholera, and that he had little hope of her restoration. This letter is published in the appendix of a report on my theory, read in Buffalo, August 8th, 1851, to a